


Replay Value

by vanceypants



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Clumsy Affection, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, M/M, Pursuing Rich instead of Brooke, Teen Romance, Trans Rich Goranski
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-03
Updated: 2019-09-28
Packaged: 2020-07-30 10:22:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 18,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20095720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vanceypants/pseuds/vanceypants
Summary: [PERMANENT HIATUS]“You need to get popular.  Here is a popular boy who likes you.  You need to go where he leads.”OR the one wherein the Squip advises Jeremy to pursue Rich on his route to popularity rather than Brooke.OR the one wherein Jeremy and Rich clumsily explore their bisexuality together.OR the one wherein things go off the deep end in the final act.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure if this concept has already been done. It probably has been. But I wanted to explore it all the same. I hope this brings someone some sense of satisfaction. I appreciate each and every one of you giving this fic a chance. Thank you for reading and I hop you enjoy!

_ **Part 1** _

**Chapter 1**

“Jeremy, this is awesome!”

Rich’s eyes were tri-toned, the left one a vibrant green, while the right was mostly blue, with an outer rim of chocolate brown. Jeremy might not have noticed, if it weren’t for the intense way they widened, eclipsing his face with their energetic size. His hands pressed against Jeremy’s shoulders, squeezing him. Jeremy tensed, half expecting him to draw him close, only to toss him angrily into the lockers.

The impact never came.

Instead, Rich’s body heat burrowed into Jeremy’s shoulders, as the smaller boy bounced on his feet. He grinned, a flash of chipped ivory. Jeremy briefly noted the gap between his front teeth, a gap which had seemed to catch Rich’s final word in his sentence. Awesome. The s lisped and tangled over itself.

Was that his natural cadence? His own squip had synced up with Rich’s, right? He considered turning to him, asking him if Rich’s voice was artificially pitched in some way, if his ‘freshman year’ self had been a lisping, uncomfortable mess.

It hardly seemed important though. And already, Rich was drawing his hands away, clearing his throat.

“I mean, yeah,” He shrugged, “I could use the money.” Jeremy watched as Rich swallowed, the way his throat jumped over the action, his shoulders uncomfortably moving upward as he toed his foot against the ground. His hands casually pressed into the pockets of his cargo shorts. “Things are kinda rough at home, if you know what I’m saying.”

The words hung between them. Jeremy wasn’t sure whether to disregard them, or tug on them, until the whole house crumbled around them.

Wasn’t his squip supposed to instruct him on the proper things to say? He shivered, offering his own brief swallow, before digging for the right sympathetic response.

“Yeah-”

He felt the phantom touch against his shoulder, this time nearly translucent and altogether inhuman. For a moment, Jeremy relished in the amount of physical contact this day was granting him.

And then electricity began to prickle into him. His body went rigid, as the voltage traveled upward. It kicked at his brain, and his tongue scrambled to catch up with commands that happened altogether too rapidly for him to comprehend.

“My dad drinks too.” The words were free of his stutter, but somehow even more stilted and inauthentically staccato.

He couldn’t understand why he was being made to say it, but the rush of electricity was gone now. His body fell loose again, a tangle of limbs he felt like he’d never quite grown into.

Rich’s eyes somehow found ways to widen further. His eyelashes quivered as he blinked, a nod bobbing at his head.

“Yo, fuckin’ dads, right?”

Jeremy waited for his squip to direct him again. But Rich was already barreling through. His hands were out of his pocket, knotting instead at the bottom hem of his tank top.

“He usually passes out by nine.” He bit his lip, though quickly released it. Jeremy couldn’t help but wonder if it was a command from his own squip.

Now that he knew how they worked, he couldn’t help but be curious about how the dynamics worked with others. 

“You should come over and play Xbox!”

Jeremy glanced back towards his squip, who shook his head and gestured, indicating that he needed to keep his attention on Rich.

“You know, with a squip, the only controller you need is your mind.” Rich grinned, another bounce on his feet. He seemed eager to share this, or perhaps just eager to have Jeremy over at his house.

Wait.

Rich Goranski, Jeremy’s former tormentor, was asking him over to his house.

To play Xbox.

“Interesting.” The Squip said the word softly, almost a prayer of a single adjective. 

“Um.” Jeremy hunched his shoulders, only for the Squip to grasp them, forcibly straightening his posture. Rich looked at him expectantly. “I don’t-”

“Tell him you’ll think about it.”

“I, uh, I’ll think about it.”

Rich nodded emphatically. “Yeah. Yeah, Tall-ass--uh, Jeremy. Sorry.” He laughed. “Think about it, okay? It’ll be totally fun. Just me and you, and Squip 1 and Squip 2.” He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, adjusting his backpack straps and beaming. “That was some Seussian shit right there. You like that?”

“Um.”

Rich grinned. “Just think about it, okay? We can kick it and play Portal or something.”

“W-with our minds.”

“Yeah!”

“I, uh-”

“This is very interesting,” The Squip spoke so softly that Jeremy was absolutely certain that he didn’t mean for Jeremy to hear him. Except such a fact made no sense. After all, the Squip only existed within Jeremy’s mind. Why should he want to make observations for anyone’s benefit besides Jeremy’s?

He also failed to see what was interesting, at least what could be so interesting to the AI. Certainly Jeremy found it interesting that Rich of all people would be so invested in talking to him. He’d spent the entirety of last year, and the beginning of this year, picking on him and Michael, after all. Vague homophobic insults and-

“He has a crush on you.”

“W-wait, WHAT?”

Rich stared at him, at the way Jeremy had exclaimed aloud. His smile broke out once again. “Talking to your squip out loud, huh? Man, I used to do that shit too. It’s funny, like, how hard it is to just telepath that shit.”

“Um.” Jeremy’s heart pulsed within his chest, vibrating against his bones so sharply that he had to resist the urge to place his hand over it. He needed to soothe it somehow. “Y-yeah. Yes, telepath. Like-”

“An X-Men or something, right?”

“I...yeah. Yeah, that’s exactly what I said.”

Rich laughed.

“Oh, he definitely has a crush on you.”

_Stop saying that!_ This time, Jeremy managed to keep his response internal. He gulped, though thankfully the laughter from Rich seemed to have drowned it out, prevented him from noting the pallor of Jeremy’s skin or the shallow catch of his breathing.

“You’re funny, Queere.” The nickname was old, a familiar staple along with Tall-Ass. But instead of derision, instead of sneering disgust, he seemed almost fond.

“There’s no almost about it, Jeremy. That’s full blown fond.”

_Just stop._

He waited to be shocked for the pleading way he commanded. Instead, his squip thankfully fell silent. He could feel him staring all the same, watching the scene unfolding before him. 

“Y-yeah that’s what the, uh, that’s what the people, um.” If Rich’s squip was preventing a permanent lisp, why wasn’t his own cutting out his stutter? He peeked back at him again, once more noting the casually interested way the Squip looked at Rich. Cold, analytical eyes moved to Jeremy, raising an eyebrow as he once again gestured for him to look at Rich. To finish his sentence. “That’s what The People rave about me.”

“Glowing reviews, I’m sure. Anyway, though, you’ve got some thinking to do, right?”

“Thinking?”

“Xbox.”

“Portal. R-right. Yeah, um. The cake, it’s a lie, and um. Yeah. I’ll...I should get to class or something.”

“Class is good. Well, I mean, it’s gay and balls, but whatever.”

“That’s what Queeres are into, right?”

Another small laugh. Jeremy’s stomach twisted, and he once more hunched his shoulders, only for a flicker of electricity to force him to straighten up. 

Why had he said that, anyway? He wasn’t--he didn’t think he was--he-

_There’s no way he has a crush on me. _

“Hm.” But the Squip failed to elaborate further, except to command, “You should get to your next class. Don’t seem too eager.”

_I’m not-_

“I should probably get to class though for real,” Rich said. He once more clapped his hand on Jeremy’s shoulder. Jeremy jumped, and Rich quickly pulled his hand away, as though burned. “Anyway, like, welcome to The Life, man.”

“The life?”

“Squip life.”

“Oh right.”

“Take it easy, tall-ass.” Rich winked, and turned into the crowd of peers who seemed eager to hear his observations and crass jokes and cruel barbs. Jeremy watched him as one of the other football players clapped a hand on his back, Rich easily moving his lips as he fell into another conversation. 

Still, Rich glanced back at him, and for a moment their eyes met, and Rich’s lips touched into a small smile. All before he disappeared into the crowd, swallowed by the peer groups Jeremy desperately wanted to fit into.

“Very interesting.”

***

Jeremy huddled behind the school on his lunch break, staring at his squip and waiting for him to clarify. He tugged at his Eminem shirt, still uncomfortable in the crisp new cotton.

Finally, the Squip deemed it appropriate to talk.

“What?”

It wasn’t the syllable he expected to come out of him. “What do you...w-what do you mean, ‘what’?”

It was more comfortable doing this outdoors, and externally, without having to think every word carefully to the computer.

“You still seem troubled. Are you confused about today’s events?”

“Everyone keeps staring at me.” 

“Ah. Yes. That’s the plan. You need to create a more visual spectacle. Peacocks preen, and teenagers are similar.”

“W-we aren’t birds.” Jeremy leaned back against the brick wall, folding his arms over himself. “Why...wh-why’d you say all that shit when, um, when I was talking to Rich?”

“I was simply making observations.”

“Observations,” Jeremy practically sneered. He quickly reeled in his expressions, for concern out of the electrical shocks that seemed to be so freely administered. Maybe it’d be better to drop the subject.

“Yes. I need to get a reading for all of your peers. To see who fits your objective, and who can simply be ignored. Cast aside.”

“Rich is, um, Rich is kind of a nightmare of a person.”

The Squip seemed amused by this, at least for a moment. “A nightmare? I’d hardly call being shoved into a locker and having your backpack mildly vandalized nightmare worthy.”

“Y-you’ve never been bullied, so I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”

The questioning of the Squip’s comprehension skills appeared to make him bristle. He straightened his tie, and his back, towering above Jeremy for a moment. “I’ll have you know that I’ve downloaded countless files on the psychological trauma of bullying on the youth of this country.”

“A-and?”

“And you hardly seem to be suffering from traumatic stress from being called a few derogatory nicknames. Now the trauma about your abandonment issues, that seems more fitting a subject to dive into-”

Jeremy’s chest split open and his stomach swallowed his heart in a sizzling, acidic gulp. He clasped his arms around himself, shaking his head violently. “We’re not talking about that.” Images of his mother’s suitcases at the door danced behind his eyes. It burned, and he dug his fingernails into his palms to distract himself with a more pleasant ache of pain.

“Noted.”

“We’re talking about Rich. And what you said about him…”

“Having a crush on you?”

“Yes. That.”

“Ah.” The Squip sighed. “That’s really all there is to it.”

“All there is to it,” Jeremy mocked in a low voice. The Squip shot him a warning look. He’d hardly gotten to know him, he realized suddenly. They’d only just bonded the day before--well, bonded in the literal sense. They hadn’t exactly had ample time to converse and get to know each other.

Though given the comments and the Squip’s ease of delving into his mind, it seemed the computer already knew everything there was to know about Jeremy.

That didn’t mean he knew everything there was to know about Rich, though. Even if he had synced up with Rich’s squip (whatever that truly entailed), surely it was too soon for him to make ludicrous assessments about his emotional depths for Jeremy.

“Rich d-doesn’t have a crush on me. He’s, uh, straight. I think.” He chewed on the inside of his cheek. “Or maybe he, uh, he might be into Jake, but he’s definitely not...not into-”

“Why not?”

“Why not what?”

“Why is he ‘definitely’ not into you?”

“B-because! Because he’s so mean to me.”

“A juvenile response, but not altogether unheard of. My research indicates-”

“I d-don’t care about your research. I...I’ve known Rich since sophomore year.” He thought back to his brief encounter with Rich in the bathroom a few weeks back, rubbing the back of his neck. “Or maybe I knew him, um, longer. I don’t...I don’t remember. But from what I know of Rich now, he...he hates me.”

“He does not.”

“He did! H-he just...the squip thing is just...his squip must be telling him to, uh, to get close to me or-”

“He wasn’t.”

“W-well, either way.” Jeremy twiddled with his fingertips. “He doesn’t like me like that.”

“He asked you on a date.”

“O-oh please!” Jeremy pushed himself away from the wall, only to begin pacing back and forth. He couldn’t look at the computer currently assessing him, instead speaking manically. “He hates me. It’s Rich Goranski! He hates me. He doesn’t have a crush on me. N-no one even notices me. I...I’m nobody!”

“You’re scared.”

“I’m not--l-listen. This is...I got you because of Christine, right?”

“That’s what you’ve said, yes.”

“S-so it doesn’t really matter. Even if Rich does have a crush on me, none of that matters, right?”

“Interesting.”

“Why do you keep saying that?”

“Your deflection skills are subpar.”

“D-do you have to constantly insult me?”

“The bell is about to ring. We’ll need to get you in a proper desk in the next class to assure your appearance of casual indifference. Come.”

Jeremy’s head spun with the intensity of today’s lessons. And it was only midday. 

How on earth was he going to survive any of this squip stuff? He swung his backpack from one shoulder, as the Squip had instructed him this morning, and counted his steps between following instructions to arch his back and puff out his chest. Following orders would become easier eventually, he supposed. But for now, he needed to find a way to silence his mind and just get through the complexities of a universe which was suddenly far vaster than anything he’d ever considered before.


	2. Chapter 2

Play rehearsal was canceled due to a personal crisis by Mr. Reyes. 

“That’s good,” The Squip insisted. “You’re not ready for Christine.”

Jeremy didn’t feel ready for anything. He sat at one of the cafeteria tables, the Squip having instructed him to wait at the school until Rich came by.

Rich.

Why did he want him to speak to Rich?

“W-why am I not ready for Christine?”

“You still need to establish yourself. Your sexual prowess is lacking.”

“Oh my god.” Jeremy groaned, placing both hands over his face as his elbows rested against the table. “Why would you phrase it like that?”

“Am I incorrect?”

“I don’t...I don’t know!” 

“You certainly know your way around a bottle of Jergins and your own knuckles, though I’ll help you unlearn those unfortunate habits. But you have no idea what it is that gets a 21st century woman enticed.”

“A-and I’ll bet that you’re going to say that you do?”

“I most certainly do. The sooner you accept that I know everything worth knowing, the easier this is going to get for you.”

“Uh huh.” Jeremy dropped his hands from his face, tapping his fingers instead against the tabletop as he rested his chin in the crux of his other hand. “I-I think you’re a virgin actually.”

“Jeremy. I’m one day old. What do you want from me?” Was he joking or being sincere? It was so hard to read him. They really needed to get to know each other better.

Or maybe Jeremy just wanted to know a little bit more to feel like he was less out of the loop. Was that so wrong though, to want to know the being he was going to be sharing a headspace with?

“S-see though? You’re not, um, you’re not that...you don’t know.”

“A modern woman expects a man with modern sensibilities.” He spoke as though Jeremy hadn’t said anything at all. It was as though the Squip was following a script after all. Perhaps it was all about those rules of social engagement that he’d insisted governed the universe. 

“Modern. O-okay. I get it.”

“No. You don’t. That’s why you have me. You don’t know anything. You’re incredibly stupid, Jeremy.”

“H-hey--”

“Not stupid,” He clarified. “But ignorant. You’re very ignorant. Especially when it comes to women. And especially when it comes to Christine.”

“Okay, fine, I’ll bite. Modern how?”

“A woman needs a man who is experimental. Who’s unafraid to embrace his fluidity and curiosity.”

This didn’t seem to be going the way Jeremy had anticipated. He’d thought getting a squip would lead to finally comprehending the tangled discomfort of high school politics. Maybe get a makeover. A workout routine. Some small talk skills.

An enhancement.

Not-

“Fluidity?”

“Not the sort of fluid you usually produce though, masturbator.” The Squip sneered.

“I-I wasn’t even thinking about...wh-what the hell is with your vendetta against jacking off?”

Once again, he was ignored. The Squip’s hand grasped at his tie, as he shook a strand of hair which had fallen out of place away from his forehead. “You need to show that you’re capable of being a sexually confident, dynamic, uninhibited, omnisexual-”

“Omniwhat?” Jeremy furrowed his brow. 

Wait.

“I-I, uh, I actually think the term is pansexual now. And, um. I mean, um. If anything, I’m bi.”

Wait.

Double wait.

“But I’m not bi. Or pan. Or omni or fluid or...no! I like Christine!”

“I’m aware.”

“So we should be...this has nothing to do with Christine.”

The Squip pinched the bridge of his nose, a pained look on his face. “This has everything to do with Christine. Are you not listening?”

“I’m l-listening. You said I need to be a sexual, um, dynamo.”

“Sexually curious. Adventurous.”

“But no masturbation.”

“There’s no adventure in masturbating, Jeremy.”

“M-maybe not the way you do it.”

“I don’t ‘do it’ at all.”

“R-right. Because you’re a baby. A newborn. O-one, uh, one day old.” He watched the way the Squip’s face shifted, a withering expression curling over his lips. Jeremy smiled and shrugged. “Sorry.”

“You’re unnecessarily complicating things.”

The audacity of that statement left Jeremy’s mouth gaping open. “I’m unnecessarily complicating things?” He repeated.

“Yes.”

“Me?”

“Yes, who else?”

“Y-you’re the one...you’re being a t-total fucking...you’re fucking bonkers.”

The zap was quick, and sharp, and Jeremy scowled. “Ow!”

“Bonkers is not a squip-approved word,” He snapped. “And you’re the one who’s insane here, not me. Complicated, closed minded, disobedient little brat.”

This was what he’d shelled out hundreds of dollars for. An electroshocking asshole who dished out petty insults and refused to let him wank.

Maybe he was right though. Maybe Jeremy just needed to give in, and things would be easier.

He sighed. “Okay. I...um. I’m sorry. Okay?”

The Squip ran his fingers through his hair, warily looking at him before giving a short nod. “Yes. Accepted. Now then, are you starting to comprehend?”

Jeremy should have just said yes. Except the Squip was inside his head. Surely he could hear if he truly wasn’t understanding. He shook his head mutely.

“By showcasing how desirable you are, and how adventurous you are, Christine will be enticed. It works on two levels, Jeremy.” The Squip slid over, wrapping an arm around Jeremy’s shoulders. Jeremy straightened his posture from his seat at the table. The Squip held out his hand, as though displaying the perfection of his plan unfolding before them. “First, Christine will want what she doesn’t have. Seeing that you’re not only desirable, but unobtainable, will leave her salivating for a taste.”

“A-and two?”

“Two, it shows that you’re just as interested in trying new experiences as she is. Going out for the play was a very smart move on your part. And to do that before you had me, that shows real promise.”

The compliments reluctantly drew a smile onto Jeremy’s face. “Thank you.”

“This way, though, you’ll show that you’re not only willing to try extracurriculars, but-”

“Extra, um, sexiculars.”

The Squip drew his arm away, as though physically repulsed. “That was terrible,” He said dryly.

“I k-know. I’m terrible too, remember?”

The Squip rolled his eyes. “Regardless. Are you starting to understand now?”

“I think so.” He sighed. “So Rich…?”

“Already is interested in you.”

“I, um, I’m not interested in him.”

“Unimportant.”

The flippancy with which he said it made Jeremy stand up. “Of course it’s important.”

“Not particularly. He’s a means to an end. A stepping stone to your ultimate goal. Besides,” The Squip waved a hand, “my processors indicate there is an 82% chance you’ll end up liking him anyway.”

There was a lot to decompress about his words. The ease with which the Squip was willing to use others just to get Jeremy what he wanted was alarming on its own.

Somehow, though, the statistical breakdown was even worse.

“82%?”

“That’s what I said, isn’t it?” 

“Yeah, but...I...I don’t like Rich.”

“You will.” The Squip tapped his foot impatiently. “I don’t understand why you’re having so much trouble grasping this. You need to get closer to Rich. This xbox date is a perfect opportunity to get close to him, and improve your chances of copulating with Christine.”

“By copulat--by screwing Rich?”

“That’s the idea.” The Squip was quiet a moment. “Well, at least of giving the impression that you have. Handjobs may suffice. I’ll have to run the data once I see a better perspective of how you and Rich interact. I need a read on your chemistry and-”

“Jeremy!”

Rich’s voice echoed through the lunchroom. Jeremy looked up, backing into the table as Rich nearly skipped towards him.

“Greet him,” The Squip commanded.

Jeremy wasn’t sure he could do this.

But a greeting should be simple enough. He unstuck his tongue from the roof of his mouth, the roof suddenly slick with saliva. “Hey.”

“What’s up, man?” Rich moved his hand over Jeremy’s, what might have been some sort of high five becoming a limp impression with Jeremy’s lack of reaction.

He heard the Squip sigh tiredly.

“How-”

“You here mourning or something?”

“Mourning?”

Rich gestured towards Jeremy’s shirt. “Man, it’s fucked what happened, right?”

“What happened…?”

Rich’s smile faltered. “Shit. You haven’t heard yet? Eminem totally kicked it, dude. Pushing up daisies.”

“Wha-”

“He’s dead,” The Squip said casually. He’d taken a seat at the table, casually glancing at his own fingernails as though they were infinitely more fascinating that Jeremy’s conversation with Rich. “I thought this would get you in with Brooke and her sort, but I suppose it works as casual conversation between yourself and Goranski.”

_Get me in...wait. _

Jeremy gasped. “Holy shit.”

“I know-”

“M-my squip killed Eminem!”

The words flickered about them, faulty light bulbs incorrectly illuminating their shadows. Rich gawked at him.

The Squip stiffened in his seat.

“I did not kill Eminem! I saw a favorable outcome-”

“H-he said he wanted me to be...holy shit. He made me wear this shirt-”

“And killed him to make you look like a tragic figure. Holy fuck.” Rich placed a hand over his mouth, and began to laugh.

“It’s not fu…” Jeremy trailed off. He glanced at the Squip, then at Rich, and a sheepish smile began to cross his face. “It’s a little...o-okay, no, no, how’d he die?”

“Hockey accident.”

“How fucking white i-is this guy? _Hockey_?!”

“That’s what I said too!” Rich snickered. “Totally fucked, right?”

“A-and my squip murdered him.”

Rich laughed again, as the Squip muttered, “I did not kill him.”

“He just said ‘I didn’t not kill him’.”

“I did not kill him! I did not! Oh hi, Mark.”

Jeremy stared at Rich. “Wait. Was that...d-did you just quote The Room?”

Rich’s smile fluttered away. His hands toyed with his backpack strap. “I, uh, yeah. Just watched it the other day.”

He was weird.

Rich was a weirdo.

Jeremy smiled. “I thought about...um. Xbox.”

“Uh huh.” Rich glanced down at his feet. “I get it, dude. You probably have more important things to do.”

“M-maybe you should, uh, give me your...can I have your number? So, um, so I can get your address and...yeah. We can, um, I c-can kick your ass at anything.”

Rich looked up. A faint pink hue began to touch on his cheeks, as he slowly nodded. “It’s only fair after all the times I did yours in, right?”

“Y-yeah.”

Rich touched his teeth against his bottom lip once again.

“Nervous habit,” The Squip pointed out. “His squip really should be working on that.”

Jeremy extended his arm, as Rich began to scrawl his phone number into his skin, after a momentary lapse of fumbling within his bag for a pen. 

“You’ll call me?”

“Y-yeah!”

“And maybe we can meet up this weekend?”

“To...totally.”

“Cool.”

“Y-yeah.”

Rich beamed, capping his pen and tossing it back in his bag, before slinging it over one shoulder. “I gotta run home. Douchebag dad’s waiting.”

A note of guilt began to itch at the back of Jeremy’s brain. He’d forgotten that bit of their bonding.

“R-right.”

“But you know how it is. So talk to you soon?”

“Yeah.”

“Cool. Bye, Queere.” Rich walked backwards, bumping into one of the cafeteria tables in the process. He giggled, and Jeremy smiled despite himself.

The smile slipped only as he and the Squip began to walk towards the exit themselves.

“Wait. I don’t...I don’t know anything at all about being gay.”

“It’s not that hard.”

“I’m not gay.”

The Squip sighed, rolling his eyes. “I thought you implied you might be bisexual earlier.”

“S-slip of the tongue.”

“That’s all gayness is.”

Jeremy gawked at him. “That’s...wh-what the hell?”

“You’re less straight than you think you are. But I suppose you need a crash course in queer self exploration.”

“Masturbation?” Jeremy perked. Perhaps he didn’t often use gay porn to get off, but if it meant he could become reaquainted with his palm, it wouldn’t be so strange.

“Never.” The Squip snarled. Then sighed. He raised his hand, snapping his fingers as he said, “Optic nerve blocking off.”

The room seemed to shimmer, before Michael seemed to apparate before him.

Except that was impossible. No, Michael had merely stepped back into the building through the main school entrance. His eyes widened behind his glasses for a moment, as though just as surprised to see Jeremy as Jeremy was to see him. 

Then they narrowed.

“Wow. Look who decided to finally stop avoiding me.”

“M-Michael?”

“Oh, now you want to talk.”

_What’s he going on about?_

“It’s called optic nerve blocking. I’ll explain later.” The Squip placed his hand between Jeremy’s shoulders, giving him a small shove towards his best friend. “This is the gayest kid in your social circle, which is to say he’s the only kid in your social circle. We’ll be spending the next few afternoons with him learning about your placement on the Kinsey scale.”

“Well?” Michael had clearly been speaking as the Squip had been. Jeremy looked at him sheepishly.

“I think I have a date with Rich Goranski. Help?”

“Wait, I’m busy being self-righteous,” Michael said, voice lost and confused, as Jeremy gently gripped his forearm and began to walk him out of the building towards his PT Cruiser.


	3. Chapter 3

Michael’s basement was comfortably familiar. His decor shambled around them as Jeremy dangled upon the weight of confessions his squip had gifted him on the ride home.

Gifted.

As if any of it had been delightful, a pleasant surprise. Instead, stomach acid filled Jeremy’s throat, guilt kicking him in the skull.

“So he was blocking me?” Michael paused. “...is it a he? This is all...this is freaky weird, Jer.”

“Yeah. Y-yeah squared.” Jeremy sat upon the bean bag chair, running his hands through his hair. His squip hovered nearby, though he didn’t seem particularly interested in the conversation. Instead, he was analyzing Michael’s collection of obsolete soda cans. Jeremy thought back to late afternoons spent drinking stale Ebay soda, nearly (or sometimes literally) barfing as the sugary slop bubbled in their guts.

“I mean, I think it’s a boy?” Jeremy glanced at his squip, who finally turned to regard him.

“I technically exist outside of your obsolete concept of a gender binary, but if you feel the need for pronouns, “he” is sufficient.” Before Jeremy could respond, he’d already turned around, hands clasped behind his back.

“Y-yeah. “He” is fine.”

Michael took a seat beside Jeremy, already rolling a joint between nimble, experienced fingers. He smiled, leaning over to nudge his elbow against Jeremy’s side. “Listen, I’ll respect his pronouns and all, but I think you’re focusing on the wrong thing here.”

“O-oh. Right.”

Michael sparked his lighter, inhaling slowly. He savored it, holding out the joint after.

“No. It interferes with me.”

How the Squip saw with his back turned, Jeremy wasn’t sure. Until he remembered the external avatar was just a handy visual hallucination, an easier way to make sense of the voice in his head. Jeremy shook his head. “Interferes with, uh, with the squip.”

Michael scoffed. “Maybe he needs to be interfered with. It’s already changing you!”

Jeremy glanced down at himself. Eminem’s stern eyes glared back. He felt a flutter of guilt for laughing about his death. It really wasn’t funny.

He decided it was best not to tell Michael that his squip might very well be a murderer too.

“I h-haven’t changed that much. Besides, um, he unblocked you, right?”

Michael grumbled in annoyance, as he took another hit.

“That, uh, that must mean he had a ch-change of heart.”

“False.” The Squip stated. He’d moved on to admiring Michael’s record collection. “Michael is just a means to an end.”

_You’re making it really hard not to believe you’re an evil computer._

“I’m neither evil nor good. My amorality makes me impartial. And superior.”

Jeremy sighed softly. He really could have used some of that weed. What a shame.

“Sacrifices are-”

_Shh. I’m trying to talk to Michael._

“I guess it’s good he unblocked me. It could have been worse, I guess,” Michael frowned. “But I doubt it was altruism.”

“C-couldn’t it be?”

“Doubt.”

Jeremy leaned back against the chair. “Okay, fine. He thought you could help me.”

“How?”

“Making me more imp-impressive or, uh, or something.”

“Again. How? I’m a loser too.”

Jeremy winced. Too. Michael considered them both equal losers. And it was true, of course. And it shouldn’t have stung so much every time.

But it still stung.

“Tell him because he’s a fudgepacker.”

Jeremy sputtered.

Michael looked at him curiously. “What? Did he say something?”

“I, uh-” How could he say things like that in such a dull, indifferent tone? “H-he, um, he called you a, um...uh…”

“What?”

“It isn’t important. But um. You’ve been gay for awhile now, right?”

Michael snorted. “Kinda sorta. Something like all my life.”

“C-cool.”

“I guess.” Michael stared at the spirals of smoke drifting from his joint, a grin finally splitting his lips. “Yeah, I guess it’s kinda cool, huh?”

“My squip wants you to teach me.”

Confusion erupted onto his features. “How gay I am?”

“N-no. How gay _I _am.”

“Uh-”

“I mean, teach me to be gay.”

“Double uh-”

“I mean gay courting!”

“Courting? Dude, you’re being weird.”

“You’re the expert.”

“On weird or gay?”

They were both quiet for a moment, before chiming in tandem, “Both.”

Michael snickered. “Okay, fair enough. But why the sudden interest in gayness?”

There were many excuses Jeremy could have come up with. He waited for his squip to provide him with one.

Only to remember this wasn’t an area where he needed help. He’d known Michael since kindergarten. Talking with him, lining up, that was easy. Sometimes it was the only thing that made any sense.

Honesty wasn’t only the best policy here. It was the only policy.

“Because my squip says I need to seduce Rich Goranski.”

The silence crushed inward with a supernova of the Squip’s voice.

“That was a mistake.”

Jeremy didn’t have a chance to question why or how.

Because Michael’s look of horror and fascination spoke volumes.

“Rich Goranski?”

“Y...yeah.”

“As in Junior Menace Rich Goranski.”

“Yes.”

“The guy who wrote ‘gay’ on the back of your calculator last year?”

“God, what an ineffective bully,” The Squip said.

“The guy who’s constantly slapping asses and wearing Jake’s letterman jacket and talking extremely loudly about cocksuc--holy shit, he _is_ gay.” Michael gasped at the revelation.

Jeremy squirmed. “Yeah.”

“Or at least hard bi. Wow. What a cliche.”

“What d-do you mean?”

“Homophobic bully who’s a closet case.” Michael relished in it. In all fairness, it had to feel like justice, for their tormentor to be a massive hypocrite.

“A-and my squip says he has a crush on me.”

“That would explain him accosting you in the bathroom. Wow. How did I never see this?” Michael grinned. “You’re his Christine.”

“Except, um, except I never wrote “boyf” on Christine’s backpack.”

“Excuse you, it’d be ‘girlf’. Wow though. This is exciting...wait. You like Christine.”

“Yeah.”

“I wouldn’t...like, no offense, dude...but I wouldn’t be surprised if you were some level of queer, but um. What does Rich have to do with Christine?”

“Telling him was such a massively, irresponsibly bad idea.”

The Squip was distractingly self righteous. It wasn’t a bad idea anyway, Jeremy reasoned. Michael would understand.

“I need t-to be a peacock.”

“What?”

“I mean I need to, uh, to do flashy displays...um. I need to show I’m desirable.”

“Uh…?”

“Dating someone popular will m-make me popular. And people want to be with popular people, right?”

“Uh huh,” Michael said uneasily. His expression was stern, a frown on his lips, glassy eyes slightly narrowed.

Oh no.

This really was a bad idea, wasn’t it?

But Jeremy’s lips just kept on moving.

“Plus if I-I show I, um, I’m into guys too, it’ll make me even...even cooler. Somehow. At least, that’s what the Squip says.”

Michael spun his joint slowly between his fingers. Round and round.

“So you’re going to use Rich to peacock around for Christine’s benefit or whatever?”

“Yes. I-I mean no! Not ‘use’. I…” He tapered off as though he’d find the point if he just strained hard enough. “I-it’ll be mutually, um, beneficial.”

“Dude. This whole thing is kind of scummy.”

Jeremy felt the words hammer into his chest. 

Scummy.

Michael thought he was scummy.

And maybe he was right.

“You’re going to end up liking Rich too. It’s not scummy.” The Squip’s words were hardly reassuring.

If anything, the promise he’d end up befriending Rich only made him feel worse.

The Squip turned towards him. “Who said anything about friendship?”

“I’m not scummy,” Jeremy ignored the Squip, as he protested weakly.

Michael’s expression softened. “I didn’t say you’re scummy. I think this plan is just kind of skeevy, that’s all. Sure, Rich is a dick, but this is emotional manipulation.”

“His black and white morality is not only a massive hindrance, but extremely boring.” The Squip tiredly glared at Michael, disdain unseen by all but Jeremy. “Tell him to kiss your fat ass.”

_I’m not telling--my ass isn’t fat!_

Why was everyone dead set on insulting him today? Scummy. Fat ass. If he had any self esteem in the first place, it’d certainly be tanking right about now.

“R-Rich has a squip too. Maybe if I just explain to him, I-”

“Oh no, you’re not turning morality police on me too,” The Squip groaned. “Come on. Tell Michael you need to leave.”

_Wait. What about learning about gay stuff?_

“He can’t teach you anything I can’t. Not if he’s going to judge you the whole time.”

“I dunno, Jer. I don’t know if there’s anything I can teach you here.”

“See? Even he agrees.”

Jeremy plucked at imaginary lint on his shirt. “Don’t y-you think...I dunno. I mean, people get into brief relationships all the time. It’s not that big of a deal.”

“It’s the principle of the thing.”

“Maybe. O-or maybe I...I need to self-explore, right? Think of it like that.”

“But couldn’t you choose someone else?” Michael’s objections seemed to shift. “Rich is so-”

“Not my t-type?”

“I mean, you kind of like those high energy weirdos.”

Jeremy bristled. “Christine isn’t a-” He thought back to her rehearsal antics, and sighed dreamily. “She’s pretty weird. Isn’t it cute?”

“Right.” Michael smiled. “And Rich is kinda hunky, in that trailer park diamond in the rough sort of way.”

Jeremy considered it. Was Rich attractive?

“Unimportant.” The Squip’s voice dripped impatience. 

“I guess I could give you a few gay lessons. Glessons, if you will.” Michael said uncertainly. “I mean, if this is happening anyway, you may as well have a solid knowledge base.”

Jeremy nodded eagerly. The Squip offered an exhausted sigh.

He expected bananas to be involved. Throats to be stretched. Visual aids involving greasy, hard bodies.

The Squip outright scoffed. “This isn’t a sex ed porno.”

Indeed it was not. Instead, Michael went into gender and sexuality spectrums. He went into Stonewall. Early Prides. ‘Zines and triumphs and the complex politics of navigating a world as a minority in America. Propositions passed and proposed, and handkerchief codes.

It was a lot.

Fascinating. Strangely resonating. But a lot.

“He went into more detail than I predicted,” The Squip admitted after Michael drove them home. Jeremy waved at the retreating car, before dragging himself inside.

Now for some well earned rest after his lessons.

“Wrong.”

Jeremy tensed for electric discharge which, thankfully, did not come.

“What do you mean wrong?” He suppressed a yawn, as he unlocked his apartment door. A rush of embarrassment hit him at the clutter, the vague smell of spoiled fruit. He toed passed the mess, tiptoeing by his father’s room (his pantsless form collapsed, face down, against the bed), then up the stairs to his bedroom.

“I’m really tired, Squip.” Jeremy kicked off his shoes, shrugging off his cardigan, and plopping onto his back on his bed. He gazed up at the ceiling, an echo of Michael’s lessons swirling around his head.

“You need to call Rich. Lucky for you, I took the liberty of memorizing his phone number, since you have carelessly smudged his number with your incessant hand wringing.”

“Huh?” Jeremy glanced at his arm, the former scroll of numbers now an illegible scribble. He winced, smiling sheepishly. “Sorry.”

“It was anticipated.”

Jeremy sat up, digging his phone from his pocket. Nerves licked at him like flames. “W-what do I say to him?”

The Squip swelled with confidence, with purpose.

“Leave that to me.”


	4. Chapter 4

The phone call had gone remarkably well. In fact, aside from beginning small talk, the Squip had fallen back and allowed the boys to converse on their own.

It was odd, being left to his own devices with his former tormentor.

Odder still to find himself laughing at his jokes. To have his own jokes laughed at in return.

And yet as Jeremy stood before the trailer, knowing he needed to knock, he felt a crushing sense of doubt and doom.

“I can’t do this. Th-this is crazy.”

“Of course you can.”

“Crazy!” he repeated. “I’m standing at R-Rich Goranski’s house. There’s no way. No f-freaking way.”

“Jeremy. It is imperative that you calm down.”

“H-he’s going to kill me. He...this is a trap.”

“It is not.”

“I c-can’t.”

“Knock on the door.”

“I can’t-”

“Jeremy.” The Squip grasped Jeremy’s shoulders, stilling his spastic motions. “Listen to me.”

“O-okay.”

“You need to get popular.” The Squip took Jeremy’s hand, forming it into a fist. “Here is a popular boy who likes you.” He guided his wrist, manually using it to rap on the door. Jeremy stood in disbelief, as the Squip reassuringly squeezed his hand. “You need to go where he leads.”

Jeremy’s hand fell to his side.

And the door swung open.

“Jeremy.”

The first thing Jeremy noticed was Rich’s button up shirt. Or rather, the sleeves on it. They hugged his biceps. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever seen Rich without his arms exposed.

His hair had been slicked back, gelled, the red stripe in his hair glistening, almost as though wet.

Finally, he noticed that he was whispering.

“Hi-”

Rich held one finger to his lips, the universal signal to be quiet. “Dad’s asleep.” He mumbled, then gestured for Jeremy to enter. “Let’s go to my room.”

Streaming past Jeremy’s ankles, several cats ran out the door. He glanced down at their tails for a moment, before looking up at Rich, who stepped aside expectantly.

Jeremy allowed himself inside. Rich shut the door behind him.

The TV blared some generic game show host’s voice. A snarling snore intercut it, the only indication of life in the sagging body collapsed in the recliner. Cats littered the couch, feline eyes following Jeremy’s every move.

The carpet managed to both crunch and stick under his feet.

The smell assaulted Jeremy, dirty feet and cat urine and stale beer.

“Don’t make a face,” The Squip said, while making a face of his own.

Jeremy kept his expression neutral, which was harder than he expected with Rich’s eyes fixed intently on him. He followed as Rich finally swiveled around, leading him to the back of the trailer. He twisted the doorknob, pressing his shoulder against the cracked door to unstick it, as he opened the door.

Rich’s room immediately smelled fresher than the rest of the house. The windowsill was lined with flickering lights, scented candles spewing their fragrances in the small space. 

Two twin beds sat at opposite ends of the room. One had covers made over it, starships and stars set on the comforter. The other had the blankets and sheets completely kicked off, unidentified stains littering the mattress.

“Oh dear god,” The Squip breathed in horror. 

Both exhaled in relief when Rich approached the made bed. He hopped onto it, sitting on the edge, then patting the space next to him in invitation.

“Go on. Sit by him.”

Jeremy stepped closer, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. He could feel Rich’s body heat radiating off of his small frame. 

“Is your squip on?”

“Yeah.”

Rich grinned. “Mine too.” He scooted closer, nudging him. “Nervous?”

“N-no.”

“Liar.”

“I j-just...I’m just k-kind of, um...shy, I guess.”

“Shy. Socially anxious. Same shit, right?”

“Yeah.”

Rich smiled. “You don’t have to worry. I’m not gonna, like, dunk your head in the toilet or anything.”

“No e-encore performances, huh?”

Rich looked at him sheepishly. “I forgot about that. Sorry.”

“I, uh, it’s okay.”

“But I’m the new, softer Rich. Quilted and woven for extra sensitive skin.”

“Like a paper towel?”

“Exactly like a paper towel. I’m even extra absorbent.”

Jeremy smiled, and noted the proximity of their hands. He drew his own away, setting it on his lap.

“Dude. You’re _super_ nervous.”

“I-I’m not.”

“I swear, man. Not gonna bite you.” Rich’s stomach began to growl, as though prompted by his words. He laughed. “Then again, cannibalism is starting to sound real dope.”

“I v-vote no.” Jeremy considered asking if they should cook something.

“I doubt he has any food, or at least nothing pleasant.” The Squip was once again taking his time analyzing their surroundings. He turned around, eyes briefly glancing over Rich’s shoulder. What was he looking at?

Rich’s squip, Jeremy realized suddenly. Were they communicating?

“You should order a pizza.”

Jeremy’s thoughts began to drift into implications beyond squip communication. The Squip had said Rich didn’t have any food. What kind of life was he living? He glanced around again, frowning as he thought of anyone growing up here.

“Jeremy. Stop pitying him. Pizza.”

“What?”

Rich smirked. “Think at him, bro.”

_What?_

“Order a pizza.”

“Oh. R-Rich. Do you...can I order a pizza?”

Rich’s expression grew strained. He glanced down at his feet, his shoulders hunching as though he were trying to shrink himself.

“I like, can’t afford it right now.”

Jeremy blinked. “Oh!” The Squip didn’t even have to tell him the next step. “I’m buying.”

Rich looked at him uncertainly. “You sure?”

“Yeah. I’m like, um. I’m starved.”

Rich chewed on his lip, giving a slow nod. “Yeah. Yeah, okay! We’ll have to have it delivered to the lot, though.”

“The lot?”

“So the door doesn’t wake up my dad. Plus the fat fuck would try to eat it.”

“The lot?” Jeremy repeated, to try again to gain clarification.

“Oh! Right! I’ll show you.” Rich moved over to his window. One by one he blew out his candles, pushing them aside, before easing the window open. There was no screen to impede him. “Climb on up.”

“Uh…”

“Follow his lead,” The Squip repeated his earlier sentiment. A look of mild amusement danced on his cybernetic face.

Jeremy stepped closer, hands on the sill. He squeaked in surprise as Rich stooped down, hefting him up.

For a moment, Jeremy teetered half out of the window.

Then his squip placed a hand on his back, shoving him unceremoniously through the opening.

Jeremy tumbled into the grass, rolling onto his back in a daze. Rich hopped out after him, landing on his feet. He grinned, holding out a hand and helping Jeremy up. 

“C’mon, let’s get a good spot and place our order.”

The abandoned trailer lot was only a few spaces down. The grass was brown, flattened and uneven. Rich flopped onto the misshapen ground. Jeremy followed, taking a seat beside him. Both boys kicked off their shoes, as Jeremy pulled out his phone.

“I’ll order it, dude. I gotta tell ‘em where to deliver it. What kind are we getting?”

With some back and forth, they eventually decided on an appropriately topped pizza. Jeremy watched as Rich placed the order, babbling instructions to the vacant patch of grass. He hung up, passing Jeremy back his phone.

“This is gonna be fucking killer,” Rich exclaimed. He flopped back into the grass, running his arms through the blades. “Thanks, bro.”

Bro hardly seemed a flirtatious nickname. Perhaps the Squip was misreading Rich’s intentions and feelings.

The Squip glared at Jeremy. “I do not misread.”

_I just think he’s just looking for a friend._

The thought was sobering. Jeremy could certainly relate to being lonely.

Still, it struck him as strange that someone so objectively popular could be lonely.

“He is lonely, Jeremy, but I assure you, his intentions with you are purely romantic.”

_Shut up._

“Hey, Jeremy?”

“Y-yeah?”

“Thanks for coming.” Rich smiled weakly. “I know I was a real dickhole to you. And that my house is a dump. But, um, it means a lot. No homo.”

And that could have been the end of that.

Rich rubbed the back of his neck. “...maybe a little homo, actually.”

Jeremy’s pulse began to accelerate.

Only for Rich to laugh. “Sorry. Sorry. I-”

“Um. Should we, um, go inside soon? To, uh, I mean, um, your xbox is lonely.”

He watched the colors drain from Rich’s face.

“It was a ruse,” The Squip said dully.

As, simultaneously, Rich admitted, “My brother kind of broke it.”

“Oh.”

“There’s other shit we can do, though! I have cards, and some board games. Or we could watch a mov--oh, well, no, dad’s in the living room. But we could-”

“C-could just talk.”

“Good line,” The Squip complimented.

Still, what on Earth were they meant to talk about? Once again, Jeremy’s heart rate battered away at his chest. Here he was on some sorta not-xbox pizza pseudo-date. Rich might be semi-homo for him. And-

“-hobbies?”

“What?” Jeremy squeaked.

“Dude, you’re seriously high strung.” Rich chuckled. “Hobbies, dude? I assume you’re a gamer.”

“Y-yeah, a little. I’m really into Apocalypse of the Damned right now.”

“I heard level 9 is a real bitch.”

“It is!” Jeremy scowled. “A-and Michael refused to watch any playthroughs. I m-mean, the graphics are great, but you can’t skip the cutscenes, and I’m so s-sick of that zombie lunchlady’s glitchy face, and-” He stopped, mortification setting in, “Y-you don’t need to hear me bitch about, um, all of that though.”

Rich’s expression was soft. “I don’t mind.”

“I’m, um, I’m just kind of boring, honestly.”

“Dude, you’re not boring. You wanna hear boring? All I do is watch Star Trek reruns.”

“Star Trek?”

“Yeah, bro! Final frontier and all that. Outer motherfucking space. It’s so sexy. Aliens and robots and alternate dimensions where evil dudes have goatees.”

Jeremy grinned. “T-tribbles and holodecks.”

“Yeah, man! Yeah! You get it!” He held out his fist, and Jeremy fistbumped him clumsily.

“That’s, um, that’s the extent of my knowledge.”

“Dude. You gotta watch it. See, I’m more of an original series guy, but next gen is real accessible too. Plus, like, Data is fucking stacked. I goddamn love androids.”

“Explains why he’s so pleased with having a squip,” Jeremy’s squip said, a lazy lull to his tone. He seemed to be content to linger back, allowing the conversation to evolve naturally.

“But, um, you clearly have other interests. You’re, um, you’re a, uh...a, like, a sports...player.”

“Is that like an athlete?” Rich snickered.

“N-no, it’s even better,” Jeremy countered.

“How so?”

“Because, um.” Jeremy had to think about it, finally beaming. “Because I s-said so.”

“Wow. I can’t argue with that.”

“No. You can’t.”

They bantered for awhile, until the pizza delivery boy eventually pulled up. Jeremy hopped up, moving towards him and exchanging money, before bringing the box back to Rich. He set it between them, watching the way Rich’s eyes widened in wonder.

“I’m so goddamn hungry,” Rich admitted sheepishly. “You mind if I…?”

“No. I mean, y-yes. I mind.” Jeremy smiled, opening the box even as he verbally contradicted. “I bought it for decor, and I don’t want you eating any.”

“Too fucking bad, sucker.” Rich cackled, grabbing a slice and dragging it towards him. Jeremy watched the string of cheese connecting it to the pie for a moment, before Rich finally snapped it free. Jeremy took his own slice, and Rich leaned over, clicking the tip of his pizza against Jeremy’s. “Bone apple tea, Queere.”

“You, uh, you too, Bi-ich.”

It was only after he said it that Jeremy realized how much it sounded like he’d just called Rich a-

“Bitch?” Rich said in confusion.

“N-no! No, I...y-you call me Queere, and...and your name is Rich, and...and the only pun I could think of was to stick Bi there, r-replace the R with a B, and...I d-didn’t mean to call you a bitch, o...oh my god. I’m so sorry. I’m so so sorry!”

“Good going,” The Squip’s voice oozed with sarcasm.

But Rich was already laughing. “You totally called me a bitch. A bi bitch. Oh my god, oh my god, if that’s not a fucking mood though!”

He giggled even as he took a few hasty bites. But it wasn’t until he was on his third slice, and Jeremy was on his second, that Rich looked at him intently.

“I think I might be though.”

“A bitch?”

Rich snickered. “No. I…” He trailed off.

“What?”

“It’s stupid.”

“It probably is stupid,” The Squip conceded. Jeremy ignored him.

“Y-you can tell me. I’m, uh, I’m literally a nobody. Even if it’s super embarrassing, e-even if I told anyone, no one would believe me.”

“I’m not worried about that. And you’re not a nobody.” He smiled faintly at him, before sighing. “This is kinda hard, okay? Hard like my dick--okay, okay, fuck, no more jokes.” He closed his eyes, inhaling sharply, before letting it all go. “I’m...I think I’m bisexual.”

“Oh.”

They stared at each other, as Jeremy waited for the jaw dropping revelation.

“That’s it?” Jeremy finally asked when the silence stretched too far.

“I...yeah. That’s...yeah.”

“Oh.” Jeremy squinted, tilting his head. “That’s...th-that’s really it?”

“Dude.” Rich huffed, his lower lip jutting out. “I’ve never...like, this is sorta big for me.”

“O-oh, I...yeah, Michael said coming out is kinda a big...I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to--I...that’s cool, Rich.”

It didn’t seem an appropriate enough reaction. He glanced towards his squip, waiting for him to tell him what to say.

_Well?_

“Speak from the heart.”

_My heart is stupid and worthless, help!_

The Squip shrugged.

He’d paid hundreds of dollars for this??

“It...it’s more than cool,” Jeremy stumbled. “Sorry. It’s...i-it’s really brave. I’m glad you...I mean, I think I might be too. Maybe. I don’t...I’m not sure.”

“So you’re a Bi-ich too?” Rich said it almost meekly, though his smile dazzled upon his lips. Jeremy shoved his shoulder, grabbing another slice of pizza after.

“The only Bi-ich here is you, G-Goranski.”

“Goransbi?”

“Gayanski.”

Rich sputtered on a mouthful of pizza. “You’re too much, dude!” He laughed.

Jeremy wasn’t sure how to process the fact that he really liked Rich’s laugh. What was he supposed to do with information like that?

“Anyway, um. This is k-kinda nice.”

“Yeah, I know, right? Pizza fucking rules.”

“Y-yeah. And, um. I...um.”

“Come on. Keep the gayness going, Queere. I opened up. Now you open up. Open wide for daddy.”

Jeremy and Rich both locked eyes, then grimaced and giggled at the same time.

“T-too much.”

“Yeah, I’ve been told that before.”

“I just, um. I’m really having fun tonight.”

“Yeah?”

“Y-yeah.”

“Even without the xbox?”

“W-we can always just use our minds.” Jeremy reached over to close the box, as Rich reached over to take another piece for himself. Their hands brushed together, and Jeremy felt a jolt of warmth.

It must have been his squip shocking him. Strange. Ordinarily his punishments were unpleasant, though. Their fingers brushed together, before Jeremy remembered to pull away, sheepishly smiling as Rich’s kaleidoscope eyes twinkled affectionately at him.


	5. Chapter 5

"Cut class with me."

It wasn't a question, but Jeremy wasn't sure if he'd quite call it a command. Rich looked at Jeremy expectantly, as Jeremy fiddled with the books in his locker.

The Squip sighed in annoyance at how long it took for Jeremy to respond. "Tell him yes."

"M-my Squip says I should say yes."

Rich snickered. "Gotta be obedient to our overlords, right?" He leaned against the row of lockers, grinning that impossible grin of his. "Come on. Cut class with me, tall-ass. Jake won't and I hate ditching alone."

"Couldn't, uh, couldn't you get Brooke or Dustin or s-someone to go with you?"

"Brooke is a peach, but she has a test this period. And Dustin ain't my cuppa, if you know what I mean."

Jeremy finally finished stacking his books in place, pulling out the brown bag that held his lunch, though lunch wasn't until after the next period. He regarded Rich curiously. "And I'm your 'cuppa'?"

"The whole teapot, baby. Or coffee pot. Whatever your preference is."

"What's yours?"

"Redbull."

"S-so I'm your cuppa redbull?"

What were they even talking about? Jeremy seemed to find himself tripping into nonsense syllables whenever Rich was around. The Squip looked equally perplexed, though he didn't supply any words to counteract their conversation.

"Something like that. Come on. Ditch with me."

"I-I dunno...what if we get caught?"

Rich gasped. "Then we go to juvie." He laughed, leaning up against Jeremy. "Come onnn. It'll be fun."

"Tell. Him. Yes." The Squip gritted his teeth as he said it. Jeremy looked at him almost apologetically, then slowly nodded at Rich.

"Okay. I...just this class, though. I need to c-come back after lunch."

Why, though? Why couldn't he just cut class for the rest of the day? It wasn't as though his dad paid any particular attention to Jeremy's attendance, to his grades, to anything he got involved in, really.

He didn't want to be bitter. And he wasn't. But sometimes it made him a little sad.

How pathetic.

Did Rich get sad? It was hard to imagine him as anything other than gleefully bouncy, or unrelentingly angry. He hadn't expressed any anger around him though, not since their squips had synced up.

"Make you come after lunch. Gotcha." Rich winked, his laughter bubbling from his lips. He looped his arm through Jeremy's, as Jeremy clutched his bag of lunch. "Let's go, man. I'll take you to my sweet wheels. My hot wheels, if you will. You remember hot wheels? Man, I used to have the sickest collection, before my jackass brother threw them into a sewer drain."

Rich babbled on, and Jeremy collected the nuggets of sorrow between his words. That seemed to be a running theme for him, didn't it? His brother destroying things he cared for. Jeremy considered prying into it, but they were outside, and Rich was pulling him towards the bike rack.

His bike was yellow, the paint chipping, with no lock to keep it in place. Though Jeremy supposed a lock would have been unnecessary, for surely no one in their right mind would steal this particular rig.

"Um."

"Pretty sick, huh?"

"Sick is r-right." And then Jeremy's face colored. He shouldn't have been insulting Rich. He glanced nervously at his squip, who glared angrily at him.

Before he could be reprimanded, though, Rich began to laugh. "Yeah, it's a little anemic or something, huh?" He pulled the bike back, patting the handlebars. "Hop up."

"W-wait. What?" Jeremy's grip dug into his brown paper bag. "You expect me to...y-you expect me to get on that thing?"

"It's our ride."

"N-no way."

"Get on," The Squip hissed. "He's trying to show you a good time."

_A good time? By turning me into ET?_

"ET rode in a basket. Climb onto his handlebars, or so help me, Jeremy-"

“I can’t promise it’s safe,” Rich admitted softly. “But it’ll be fun.”

“H-hold my lunch in your backpack?” Jeremy handed it over.

Rich took it, bouncing on his feet, before swinging his backpack around, fitting the bag in place. “You got it, bub.”

“B-bub?” Rich held the bike still, as Jeremy gingerly pulled himself up. He wobbled, awkwardly situating his legs, as Rich jumped onto the bike seat behind him. Rich’s hands settled on the handlebars, near Jeremy’s body. He could almost feel his touch, and his face began to burn pink.

“Yeah, you know. I’m practicing being old timey for the play.”

“I-it’s...wait. Do you think bub is a Shakespearean word?”

“Wherefore art thou, bubsy?” Rich crooned, as his feet began to dig into the pedals.

The bike lurched forward, wobbling and nearly spilling over. Jeremy cried out in surprise, reaching over and placing his hands over the backs of Rich’s.

And then the ride steadied, as Rich began to steer and stabilize. They rode forward, and the wind tangled into Jeremy’s hair, throwing it back. He could hear Rich’s heavy breathing.

“A-am I too heavy?”

“Nah, you’re perfect.” 

Jeremy glanced back, catching the way the sun reflected off Rich’s face, the way his forehead was slick with sweat. Rich glanced up, catching his gaze and smiling happily at him.

“How’s the seat?”

“Um. It’s good.” Jeremy said shyly.

They avoided potholes and sticks, Rich weaving in and out of traffic. Jeremy faced forward again, gasping and giggling at the weightless feel that began to settle over him. Rich paced them around, catching the best hills, and effortlessly evading any prying eyes that might wonder a little too hard why they weren’t in school.

Around and around they went, until they reached an abandoned market.

“I used to shop here, when my m-mom--” Jeremy stopped himself, pushing the memories away as he hopped off the bike. Rich used his toes to unveil the kickstand, setting his bike against the curb, as they walked around the decrepit building. “-a long time ago,” Jeremy finally said.

“Yeah, me too. They used to have live lobster.”

“Y-yeah! I used to think that was so...s-so cruel.”

“Right? What the hell, I mean, I’m a meat eater and all, but I don’t want to see my prey’s face before I devour it.”

“Have you, um, ever had lobster?”

“Nah. You?”

“Once.” Jeremy balanced against the curb, before he noted Rich walking directly behind the building. He hopped onto the sidewalk, following after him. “M-my dad, um, when my…” Shit, he was going to say it anyway, the urge to overshare rushing behind his teeth. He clamped down, trying desperately to hold it back.

“Tell him.” The Squip said. His hand rested against his shoulder. “He’ll relate better to you.”

“...when my m-mom left. My, uh, dad. He had us dress up, the two of us. And we went out to this really overpriced restaurant. I think...I think he thought it’d take my mind off things.”

Rich frowned, digging into his pocket and drawing out a pack of cigarettes. “Did it?” He asked softly.

“Not even a little bit.”

“Fuck.”

“Y-yeah.”

Rich drew out a cigarette, slipping it between his lips, then holding the pack out for Jeremy. Jeremy hesitated a moment, before reaching out, drawing one out. He held it between his fingers.

“You’re not a smoker, huh?”

“C-cigarettes? Not, uh. Not really.” Jeremy watched as Rich lit his own. “That obvious?”

“A little. Here.” Rich moved closer, guiding Jeremy’s hand upward until Jeremy had the cigarette between his lips. “Inhale, okay?” Jeremy sucked inward, as the tip of Rich’s lit cigarette touched his own unlit one. It sparked, catching the flame.

Jeremy’s mouth filled with smoke. He sputtered, jerking away from Rich as he started coughing and hacking. Rich reached over, carefully petting his back.

“It’s okay. You’re okay.”

Jeremy didn’t protest as Rich drew the cigarette away from him. He snubbed it out, focusing instead on his own cigarette and smiling at Jeremy.

“I’m sorry about your mom.”

“Sh...she was a whore, what do I care?” There was a long pause, before Jeremy stammered, “I sh-shouldn’t say that. She...she had her reasons for leaving.”

“Cunty reasons.”

Jeremy laughed. “Y-yeah.”

“She doesn’t know what she’s missing.”

Jeremy snorted. “Yeah, I’m sure she’d...I-I’m sure she’d be really, uh, impressed with me.”

“She would.” Rich said it with such sincerity that Jeremy had to look away.

“Th...thank you.” Jeremy glanced over at him. “But, uh, you barely know me.”

“Yeah, well, I want to.” Rich grabbed Jeremy’s hand with fingers unoccupied by his cigarette. He dangled said cigarette between his teeth with a grin, as he pulled Jeremy to the back brick wall of the building. They sank downward, sitting side by side.

Rich’s hand remained in Jeremy’s.

Jeremy waited for it to get uncomfortable. But as Rich started launching into a story about his homeroom exploits, he couldn’t help but find himself comforted by the warmth of human contact.

...was this what it’d be like, to hold Christine’s hand?

Something felt off about thinking about that right now. He couldn’t quite place why.

“Oh, you probably want your lunch, right?”

“O-oh. Right.” Jeremy watched as Rich pulled the brown bag from his backpack, handing it over. Their hands were no longer together, and Jeremy’s fingers tingled emptily. He unfolded the top of the bag.

And remembered his morning arguing with the Squip.

_“Make sure you pack an extra sandwich,” The Squip said, surveying Jeremy critically as he spread mayonnaise onto the bread._

_Jeremy glanced up at him in surprise. “W-why? Do I, uh...do I need to bulk up?”_

_“Of course not. Well...actually, a work out regime might be in order. Your arms are extremely underdeveloped. But no.” The Squip had pulled himself up onto the counter, his legs dangling off. He looked almost childish like this, and Jeremy felt a smile begin to touch on his lips as he surveyed him. “What are you laughing at?”_

_“O-oh, uh, noth--I wasn’t even laughing!”_

_“I don’t care for your smug expression. Prepare a second sandwich.”_

_“I will, but, uh, but why?”_

_The Squip looked at him as though he were stupid. Then again, it could very well have been his default expression. “Rich is food motivated.”_

_Rich._

_Food motivated, perhaps because he didn't have enough to eat at home. What did he do on weekends? Was that why he attended so many parties, just to eat? No, no, normal people enjoyed going to parties. Or were actually invited to parties. Or-_

_Why was he thinking about any of this right now?_

_“Rich?”_

_“Yes.”_

_“I don’t c-care!” Except he did care. He cared perhaps only a small amount, but he could feel himself already caring more than he anticipated. “Is all of you...every conversation k-keeps coming around to Rich.”_

_“Yes.”_

_“I d-don’t...when are we going to start talking about Christine?”_

_The Squip hopped off the counter, folding his arms and tapping a foot impatiently. “Just make the sandwich, Jeremy. Trust me.”_

He couldn’t quite say he trusted him. But he had made the sandwich.

He stared at it, beginning to reach inside. “O-oh, Rich-”

“You need to tell him you accidentally made extra,” The Squip said abruptly. 

_What?_

“His pride will be wounded if he thinks you’re seeing him as a charity case. Tell him you accidentally made extra, or that your dad packed extra, or...regardless, protect his ego, or your chances with him will plummet.”

Maybe that’d be for the best. 

But Jeremy pulled the foil-wrapped sandwich out. “O-oh man. I can’t eat all this.”

It was unconvincing and Rich looked at him oddly. “What are you talking about?”

“I g-guess, uh, I guess I spaced out and made two sandwiches. Do you want one? I’d h-hate to waste it.”

Rich stared, first at the outstretched sandwich, then at Jeremy. He waited for him to question what type it was, or if he was doing this because he felt sorry for him. He waited for this to backfire.

His cheeks dimpled with how brightly he smiled. “Yeah! Hell yeah! Are you serious?”

“Y-yeah, completely.”

“Thank you so much.” He grasped it, holding it reverently. One hand reached up, plucking the cigarette from his lips, and flicking it aside carelessly. He unwrapped it, eyeing it in absolute wonder. “This looks so good.”

“It’s j-just turkey.”

“My new favorite!” 

“New--”

“Every sandwich is my favorite.”

They sat beside each other, eating their sandwiches. Jeremy found himself babbling, between mouthfuls of bread, about various video games, films he liked, childhood memories. Everything seemed to spill out so easily, and Rich seemed all too eager to consume it all, just as he consumed his sandwich.

Even once the meal was done, Jeremy found himself in the midst of an animated story about himself and Michael trying to sneak into an R rated movie.

“-so we get the t-trenchcoat, and...and I’m t-trying to balance on Michael’s, um, his shoulders, and-”

“Oh my god, you Little Rascaled it?”

“That’s where we g-got the idea,” Jeremy giggled with Rich, nodding eagerly. “A-and, um, and we made it a-about halfway down the block before he dropped me.”

“He dropped you?”

“I g-guess my hips were too ‘unruly’ or, uh, or something.”

“Oh my Christ.”

“Right?”

“What movie were you trying to see?”

“J-jesus, I don’t even...I don’t even remember.” Jeremy shook his head. “It wouldn’t have w-worked, though. We should’ve, um...Michael should’ve been on top.”

“Oh yeah, because he’s such a top.” Rich teased.

Jeremy blushed a little at the prospect of Michael being sexual active at all, let alone being the dominant party. “Wh-what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Mell is a TOTAL pillow biter.”

Jeremy nudged him. “What m-makes you say that? You, uh, you fantasizing about him?”

“I mean, he’s super cute, buuuuut I have my eyes on someone else.”

Rich stared at Jeremy intently, and Jeremy’s eyes widened, only to turn away for something, anything, to distract himself.

He reached into the brown bag, drawing out a bag of Lays. “Y-you want-”

“To get Lay’d?”

“You’re so immature.” Jeremy wasn’t sure where that particular tone came from, or why he was smiling so contently. 

The chips sat between them, as Rich eventually drew out his ipod, tethering it to Jeremy’s cell phone hotspot. Jeremy accepted one of the ear buds, fitting it into place, as Rich spoke excitedly.

“So like, we can just listen to music if you want. I’ve got some sick-ass jams on here.”

“Sick a-ass-jams,” Jeremy moved the emphasis, and it had the desired effect of gaining a laugh from Rich.

“Exactly.” Rich moved through youtube, fumbling through playlist after playlist, trying to find exactly what he wanted to show Jeremy. “But listen. I’m a sucker for these things.”

Jeremy moved closer, resting his cheek against Rich’s shoulder to get a better angle to see the ipod’s screen.

“W-who still uses an ipod?” He teased.

“Don’t make fun of him,” The Squip interjected.

Except Rich didn’t seem offended. “I saved up for ages for this bitch, and I’m getting my mileage. It’s the first thing I bought, with squip money.”

“Your sq-squip makes money?”

Rich chuckled, shaking his head. “From selling squips.”

“O-oh. Right. You’re a drug dealer.”

“Ouch. I’m a technology peddler, thank you.”

“Dr-drug dealer. Walter White.”

“I’d be Pinkman, I think. Bitch.”

“Bi-ich.”

Rich laughed brightly, throwing his head back and nearly tearing the headphones from their ears in the process. They readjusted, as Rich finally pressed play on the video.

The Emergency Broadcast signal blared within their ears. Jeremy stiffened in surprise, as he watched the text begin to fill the screen.

“I love these mock emergency broadcast fuckers,” Rich admitted, as a fake warning for a Russian missile attack began to flurry over the screen. The text was serious, dire even, and Jeremy looked away from the screen, to Rich’s face, in disbelief.

“I l-love these too,” Jeremy admitted softly.

“No shit?”

“Y-yeah.”

“The replay value on these things is fuckin’ unreal too. I could watch ‘em all day, every day.”

“I...th-this one is pretty good, too. I should show you...there’s a meteor one that came out the other day, and it’s...i-it’s pretty bad, but-”

“Yo! You’ll for sure have to show me. I love these fucking things.”

“They freak M-Michael out, so I can’t...I mean, I usually have to watch them alone.”

“Not anymore.” Rich boasted, as they became absorbed in the videos.

“Yeah,” Jeremy said softly. “Not anymore.”


	6. Chapter 6

"You're going to have to kiss him eventually."

Jeremy sat on his bed, as the Squip stood before him, his intent stare fixed on Jeremy's face. 

There were so many ways to address it. Denial. Anger. Acceptance.

He chose to instead play completely dumb. "Who?"

"The Pope," The Squip sneered. His sarcasm seemed to be expanding the longer he was alive. It was fascinating in a sense, to watch him become more of a being, more of a person for lack of a better word.

Jeremy still needed to get to know him better.

"Rich?" He finally supplied, and watched the way the lines smoothed on the Squip's face, the way his body language grew more lax, liquid, at ease.

"Obviously."

"I mean, we haven't...um. W-we haven't, uh, really been on a date or, um, anything yet."

"You've been on two," The Squip countered.

"W-when?"

"The pizza date, and ditching class with him."

"W-we watched emergency broadcast simulations. That, uh, that's hardly romantic."

The Squip took a seat beside him on the bed, staring at him as though he were the lowest, stupidest being upon the planet. Jeremy squirmed, but refused to break his gaze, defiantly staring back at him.

"Rich tailored activities to your interests. Just as you made certain to provide him with stimulation that appealed to his appetites."

"Literally."

"Yes."

Jeremy groaned, finally looking away from the Squip's unblinking face. "I j-just...Christine barely t-talks to me. How do you know this is working?"

"Everyone is taking notice, Jeremy. You just don't see it yourself, because you're too self-absorbed."

"S-self-absorbed?" Jeremy said in shock. "I...me?"

"Yes."

"I hate myself! I'm not self-absorbed."

"Self-loathing and self-absorption aren't mutually exclusive concepts. We do need to work on building up your pitiful self-esteem, though. It's extremely unappealing to members of all conceivable and inconceivable sexes."

"...w-wow. That really, uh, really built up my self-esteem. Thanks."

"You're being difficult again."

"You're b-being obtuse."

"I am not. I've told you exactly what you need to do through every step of this process. You're just refusing to give in completely in obedience. Who's fault is that?"

"I'm n-not a lap dog."

"You're right. Girls flock to dogs. You're more of a..." He trailed off, gesturing towards Jeremy as he tried to think of the proper word. "More of an ample hipped platypus. Or a slug. Yes. A slug. You're too slow to truly chase after what you want."

"H-hey!"

"Slow in both the literal and mental sense, mind you."

"D...did you just call me stupid?"

"And cursed with bad timing, yes."

"Look." Jeremy jumped off the bed. "If this is going to work-"

"It's already working."

"I-if you're going to stay in here," Jeremy tapped his temple, "Then, uh, then we need to lay down some ground rules."

The Squip folded his arms, one leg swaying back and forth. "I'm listening."

"One. N-no more, uh, no more calling me stupid."

"Two," The Squip countered, "You need to stop acting stupid."

"Y-you're already breaking the rules."

"As are you."

Jeremy pouted. "Haven't you ever heard, um, that you catch more, uh, you c-catch more flies with honey than vinegar?"

"Repulsive. More proof that you're some sort of bug. Why should I care to have flies anywhere near me? They carry disease and fecal matter."

"That's not...i-it's an expression."

"I'm well aware. And it's disgusting."

"You're r-really making it hard to...g-god! I just..." He pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes, blocking out the Squip and his room and everything but blistering dark. "This is hard, okay? I don't...I'm c-confused and your rules are weird and I ju-just-"

"Jeremy." The Squip rose from the bed, and his hand pressed against Jeremy's shoulders. He squeezed them, before giving them a small rub. His voice was softer. "Jeremy. You're doing very well. Do you understand? You're doing very well, all things considered."

"I-"

"Everything I do, it's for your benefit. I suppose..." He sighed. "I suppose I can try to be gentler in my approach."

"No more electric shocks?"

The Squip was quiet a moment. Jeremy dropped his hands from his eyes, watching the way he fiddled with his tie.

"Fine."

"A-and no more calling me stupid?"

"I'll...attempt to comply with that request."

"That's, um, that's all I ask." Jeremy smiled faintly. "And, uh, a-and why don't you tell me about yourself?"

"Ludicrous." The Squip snapped, his expression once falling into disappointed anger. "There's nothing to tell that I haven't already explained to you."

"C-come on, I hardly know you."

"I'm not a person. There's nothing to know."

"I-I'm sure there's more to you than...d-do you like Keanu Reeves movies?"

"Not particularly."

"Well, you've never seen them."

"I know the plots. It would hardly suit our needs for me to sit around and watch-" He stopped, eyes widening slightly. His lips moved, though no sound came out. It took Jeremy a moment to realize he must have been mumbling (or mouthing, anyway) plans to himself.

"What?"

"Movies."

"Y-yeah?"

"Making small talk is unimportant, Jeremy. I am not Rich. These aren't your late night phone calls." It was true, they had spent the last week chatting constantly. It was strange using the phone for purely voice chatting, rather than video calling. But Rich always admitted that his brother was nearby, or his father, or 'I look like shit', and regardless, there was something almost charming about speaking on the phone.

It didn't stop them from texting during the day too, though.

"I k-know you're not Rich. You're, uh, you're some sort of cyber enigma or something."

"Shut up."

"I thought, uh, thought you were going to be gentler."

"Movies. You need a crash course on romance. Romantic comedies are a good jumping point for American expectations of courting and-"

"Oh g-gross."

"Pardon?"

"I don't w-want to sit around watching freaking _Love Actually_ or whatever. L-let's watch _The Matrix_ or something instead. It's sorta dated, but you need to, uh, meet your doppelganger or-"

"You're insufferable. I told you, you're going to have to kiss him eventually. We should watch some films on-"

"I c-could just watch a porno with heavy kissing scenes instead."

"Be serious."

"I am!"

"We're not indulging in your pornography addiction."

"B-but it'll, uh, teach me how to, um, t-to rock Rich's world."

The Squip's eyes narrowed, lips pressing into a thin line. Jeremy grinned sheepishly. "Your pencil dick is hardly a good barometer for pleasing someone as experienced as Goranski. We'll approach that topic when it comes to fruition."

"Wait. S-so that is going to...t-that's part of the plan too?"

The Squip failed to answer. Jeremy swallowed sharply, as he realized in faint horror that he wasn't altogether disgusted by the idea of bedding Rich. Or being bedded by him.

Wait.

"A-am I a bottom?!" Jeremy exclaimed suddenly. He clapped a hand over his mouth after. Maybe the Squip would have heard that thought anyway, but saying it outloud was strangely humiliating.

"Naturally," The Squip said dryly. "Why else would you have manifested me?"

"Wait. What's _that_ supposed to mean?"

"Go turn on your TV. I need to see what Netflix's selection is for rom-coms."

"Whoa, whoa, wait a second, you're not just sk-skipping past--hey, listen to...f-fine." He stomped over to his remote, powering on his small television and using his Chromecast to load Netflix.

As it turned out, Netflix originals would suit the Squip's needs perfectly.

And as it turned out, they were-

"Awful," Jeremy groaned. "N-no more."

"This is as good of a stopping place as any," The Squip conceded. He once again patted Jeremy on the shoulder.

It was oddly comforting, to be touched by him. It occurred to Jeremy that it had been ages since he'd been touched by his father, and certainly an eternity since he'd had the affection of his mother.

Come to think of it, he wasn't sure he'd ever had the affection of his mother.

A lump formed in his throat, as the Squip continued to carefully rub his shoulder. He swallowed, and offered a smile. "I guess, uh, I g-guess this wasn't too terrible."

"Yes it was. You couldn't stop groaning."

"I mean, they're b-bad movies."

"Unimportant."

"A little important."

"Not for our needs. What have you learned?"

"That r-rom-coms are really formulaic?"

"Most genre films are, Jeremy! Why are you being like this?"

"Like what?"

"Stu--" He stopped himself, pinching the bridge of his nose and exhaling slowly. "Look. Did you gather anything from the grand gestures? The sweeping drama? The-"

"Clumsy heroines and third act misunderstandings?"

"I liked the movies. Stop being an asshole."

The words cut between them. Jeremy blinked, and then felt a smile rise on his lips. "O-oh my god."

The Squip turned his back towards him. Jeremy could already see him gripping and knotting at his tie. "Shut up."

"You...a-aw, that's kind of sweet."

"I said shut up."

"What did you, um, wh-what is it you like about them?"

"I asked you to shut up. I expect you to obey."

"Do you want your own prince charming to sweep, uh...to carry y-you away on a white horse?"

"Those are fairy tales." He turned around. The frown on his face was deep. "I'm inhuman, Jeremy. No one is going to sweep me anywhere."

"Oh."

Jeremy felt a flicker of guilt. Making fun of him was getting nowhere, and was instead highlighting all the areas in life that the Squip would never experience. It hardly seemed fair, that his perspective was limited to whatever Jeremy experienced. 

"I'm sorry."

"I don't appreciate your pity."

"I, uh, I'm super sorry?"

"I asked you to shut up. At any rate." The Squip straightened his cuffs, then his tie, and gave Jeremy a curt nod. "There are other lessons that need to be learned."

"Like?"

"Kissing, for one."

"Oh." Jeremy swallowed again. He seemed to be building up an excess of saliva. That couldn't be good! Especially when it came to kissing. Who wanted to swap spit with a verifiable swamp monster of saliva? "Kissing."

"Yes."

"So I can kiss...k-kiss Rich."

"Yes."

"To, uh, prepare for kissing Christine."

"Yes."

The prospect of kissing Rich made him more anxiously sweaty than kissing Christine. Strange. He placed his hands on his thighs, tense, rolling his shoulders as though preparing himself.

"So, uh, how are we going to do this?"

"Do what?"

Jeremy stared at the Squip. His eyes moved to his lips, perpetually turned into a frown. His eyes moved lower, over the slope of his neck, then rose back up to his face. His own cheeks began to glow, as the reality of the lesson began to set in.

He needed to practice kissing.

And there was only one person here who he could practice with.

"Y-you know."

"I do not."

"You're in my head. O-obviously you know!"

"I try to give you as much privacy as I can."

"Oh." That was strangely kind of him. How accurate and truthful was it, though?

"Very truthful."

"Th-that just proves that you, uh, you aren't giving me privacy."

"Your thoughts are very loud. And I said I try. I didn't say I accomplish."

"Fair, uh, fair enough." Jeremy smoothed out the legs of his pants, clearing his throat. "So, uh, so are we just-" He leaned closer, licking his lips.

The Squip placed a hand on his chest, preventing him from moving any closer. "What are you doing?"

"I...p-practicing?"

"Ah." The Squip said softly. "You thought you were practicing on me."

"W-well, yeah."

The Squip kept his hand on Jeremy's chest. Jeremy supposed it was just a hallucination, but it felt solid, real. Warm. The Squip bunched his fingers into his shirt and Jeremy's heart rate skyrocketed as he pulled him closer, closer.

"Absolutely not," The Squip whispered, face so close that Jeremy could feel his breath against his lips. And then, just as abruptly, he shoved him backwards, Jeremy landing on his back on the bed.

"Hey!"

"I am not a mannequin for you to sully with your acne riddled face."

Jeremy felt an ache of embarrassment, as he rubbed a hand over his own face. "It's, uh, clearing up-"

"Yes. Thanks to me, and the skin care regimes I've gotten you on."

Jeremy thought of the various lotions and soaps the Squip had instructed him to buy. It was all incredibly tedious. But the effort was indeed starting to pay off.

"You're going to practice the old fashioned way."

"Um." Did he dare question it? The Squip tended to hate how much Jeremy questioned everything. But how was he supposed to react to that? "What's, uh, what's the old fashioned way?"

"Form a fist. I'll expect you know how, given how often you used to do so around your own genitalia."

Jeremy rolled his eyes, but did as instructed. He glanced down at it, his knuckles protruding and white. "Okay?"

"Now then. This will be your partner."

"W...what?"

"You're going to use your lips upon your hand."

"Wait. That's...th-that's pathetic! That's like...th-that's like a precursor to pillow humping."

"Which we both know you've done, so I fail to see why you're so embarrassed."

Jeremy wrinkled his nose. "it's..i-it's embarrassing!"

"Who's going to see?"

"You, for one."

"And?"

"I don't...you'll make fun of me!"

"Nonsense. When have I ever?"

"O-oh, I don't know, only every f-freaking day."

"You really need to stop saying freaking. It's incredibly juvenile."

Again with the insults. "I-I'm not-"

"Just obey me, Jeremy. Trust me. Kiss your hand."

Jeremy raised his fist towards himself. He looked at the Squip, waiting for him to tell him this was a joke, that he didn't actually intend for him-

"Go on."

And thus Jeremy found his evening occupied, as he seduced his own hand. Every lesson brought more embarrassment, the introduction of tongue leaving his skin wet and agitated. 

He thought of Rich, and how much better he hoped this would feel on him.

And then he reminded himself to think of Christine instead.


	7. Chapter 7

He passed him the first note between classes. It tucked into Jeremy’s palm, as though the paper had been folded specifically to fit his hands.

** _that cardigan is hot as fuck on you, bro_ **

It was an old cardigan. Certainly nothing special. Jeremy glanced down at himself, tugging the fabric out away from his body to take in the threadbare fabric. 

_Do I really look hotter than normal?_ He thought at his squip.

The Squip looked at him tiredly. “You look like you normally do.”

Plain. Boring.

There was a brief sigh from the Squip. He leaned over, creating an illusion of straightening out Jeremy’s cardigan, then ghosting a hand through his hair, fluffing a few of his curls, then nodding slightly as though satisfied with his work.

“Understated, but softly appealing.”

_Wait._

Jeremy blinked.

_Did you just call me appealing?_

“By Rich’s standards, yes. I’ve been communicating with his squip.” The Squip moved his hands over his own clothes, chest puffed in a satisfied sort of way. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I actually need to interface with his squip now.”

_Inter--wait. You’re leaving??_

The Squip nodded. 

_Just like that?_

“Only for a few hours. We’ve made plans. I need to talk about...well, what we talk about really isn’t any of your concern, now, is it?”

_Wait. Is...are you friends with Rich’s squip?_

“I wouldn’t say that.”

_Are you going to be discussing us?_

“Stop being so self-absorbed. We’ve already discussed that this isn’t an appealing trait. What we discuss is none of your concern. But no. The main topic isn’t necessarily you or Rich.”

_Then what could you possibly talk about?_

This was apparently the wrong thing to ask. The Squip looked at him in annoyance. “I have plenty of topics of discussion at my disposal. I am a very riveting conversationalist when the need arrives, I’ll have you know.”

Jeremy stared at him, then down at the note still in his hand, then back up at his squip. _ Are you trying to impress Rich’s squip?_

“Why would I want to do that?”

_I don’t know. I...I just don’t understand why you’re talking to him, if it’s not about us, and if you’re not friends._

“You don’t know dick about shit!” The Squip snapped. His face colored slightly, and he smoothed his hair. “...forgive me, that wasn’t squip-approved vernacular. However, let me reiterate: you’re an idiot.”

_You’re not supposed-_

“I know, I know.”

_You’re really defensive._

“Rich called you hot. Think about that for awhile.”

And with that, the Squip began to disintegrate from Jeremy’s vision, pixel by pixel until he popped right out of existence.

Jeremy’s mind was quiet. Still. And though he knew logically that the Squip was still in there, that his code was still attached to him, he couldn’t help but feel strangely empty without him taking up space.

“Jer!”

“Michael?”

Michael practically skipped over to him. “I didn’t think I’d get a chance to see you. You’ve been so busy with Rich.”

Jeremy blinked. “I haven’t...I…”

He’d had lunch with him every day this week. Jeremy had packed extra every day, to the point where Rich no longer questioned why Jeremy seemed to constantly forget that he didn’t need two sandwiches, or two bags of chips, or two heaping thermostats of soup. 

It wasn’t that he was trying to avoid Michael. But guilt smacked at him all the same, his conscience huddled in the fetal position as the nagging feelings kicked at its kidneys and spine.

“I, uh, I’m really sorry.”

“No, it’s okay.” Michael said it as though it were okay, but Jeremy could see the uncomfortable way he shifted from foot to foot. He felt neglected. 

Jeremy started to instinctively question the Squip, before remembering he wasn’t with him, and that communicating with Michael was supposed to be easy.

“I’m sorry, man. Really.”

“No, it’s okay. I know you’re busy with Operation Christine. Plus you have the whole school talking about you now.”

Ah. So Michael hadn’t forgotten that Rich was a stepping stone. Funny. Jeremy kept forgetting though. He sighed softly.

“Yeah.”

“How’s rehearsal been?”

“Exhausting. I...th-these lines are weird.”

“Yeah. Zombies, right?”

“Yeah. Zombies.”

“...that thing in your head, you ever worried it’s going to turn you into a zombie?”

“Wha--no. The Squip is…” He trailed off. How would he define the Squip? Helpful, he supposed. Dedicated to his mission. “...my friend.”

Both stared at each other for a moment. Jeremy didn’t attract new friends. It had always just been Michael.

...yet here he was, with a micro-boy telling him his cardigan was hot on one hand. And a supercomputer in his head who he considered a confidante and trusted source.

Michael’s nose wrinkled. “Friend?”

“Yeah. Kinda.” Jeremy fiddled with his backpack strap, glancing down at the ground.

“I just...you need to be careful, you know? I worry.”

“I know.”

“And I, like, miss you and stuff,” Michael said that quieter. “You’re not going to forget me once you’re...I mean, now that you’re in the cool guy jock circle-”

“Hey wait!” Jeremy didn’t mean to interrupt Michael’s heartfelt questioning. He didn’t intend to disregard his feelings in the slightest. But something Michael said stuck out. “You said everyone’s talking about me.”

“Well, yeah.” Michael smiled slightly. “You haven’t noticed?”

“I-I’ve been busy not masturbating and keeping my posture, uh, straight.”

“Your posture and nothing else, right?” Michael snickered, then shook his head. “Dude. No. You’re the belle of the ball.”

“Uh-”

“I guess they’re curious about why Rich has suddenly started gravitating towards you. Trust me, just listen a little, you’ll hear your name. Anyway, I gotta get to chemistry. But come over on Sunday, okay?”

“Sunday?”

“Yeah, my player two controller is getting dusty.” He laughed his husky, snorting laugh, and Jeremy found himself smiling fondly. It was familiar, and just what he needed to settle his confusion about squips and notes and how old cardigans could possibly produce such an effect on athletic boys.

Jeremy took himself to class. And did as Michael instructed. 

He listened.

Except it wasn’t sounds that came to him. He didn’t hear his name in hushed whispers or mocking jeers.

Instead, it was the eyes he noticed. Staring at him, then pointedly looking away when Jeremy tried to meet their gaze. He doodled spirals into his notebook, and watched as Chloe gestured towards him, before animatedly whispering to Brooke. He watched as Jenna gave him a once over, only to wave her hands in an exaggerated show of animated speech as she spoke to a cluster of cheerleaders. He saw himself blossom into the center of the strange universe of Middle Borough.

He wasn’t sure he liked it.

In fact, he was very sure he didn’t like it.

** _does anyone ever call you jerbear?_ **

The note tossed onto his desk in the second to the last period. Jeremy stared down at it, then looked up at Rich, who wriggled his eyebrows playfully at him.

Jeremy clasped a hand over his mouth to keep from giggling, then clicked the lead out on his mechanical pencil.

_Not if they wanted to live._

He tossed it back to Rich, who smiled as he read it.

** _yeah i personally prefer sexy names like tall-ass and queere, don’t you?_ **

_Do I really have a choice?_

** _nah_ **

_Shouldn’t you be texting me instead? This is a little 2000, right?_

** _hell i thought you liked retro shit_ **

_I do _

** _then you should be falling hard for me right now_ **

The ‘i’s in that sentence had hearts over them, and it was so cheesy and overdone that Jeremy couldn’t help but giggle.

“Is something amusing, Mr. Heere?”

“O-oh!” His eyes widened as he tucked the note into his binder. “N-no, I...I just coughed.”

“Hmph.” The teacher rolled his eyes, but returned to scrolling equations on the white board.

Jeremy glanced at Rich, who stuck his tongue out at him, crossing his eyes. Jeremy laughed again.

“Mr. Heere!”

“S-sorry. Allergies.”

“Yeah. Get off his ass, dude.”

“Mr. Goranski!”

“You’re being a real fucking cock. He sneezed. Get the fuck over it.”

“Principal’s office, NOW, Goranski.”

Rich threw his book into his bag, scooping himself out of his seat. “Whatever. This shit is lame anyway.” 

Jeremy watched with guilt as Rich headed towards the door. Rich glanced back at him, a crooked grin and a wink of his green eye, before he slipped out the door.

It was no surprise that Rich was absent from play rehearsal.

He was the only one though.

“Hi, Jerbear.” Brooke saddled up beside him.

Jeremy blinked, startled both by her sudden presence, and by the nickname that he’d jokingly alluded to hating to Rich. It was okay, though, from her lips.

“Hi,” He squeaked out, mouth dry. Where was his squip when he needed him? How could he possibly be speaking to Rich’s for this long? Was he okay?

_Squip?_

No response.

The last time he’d spoken to Brooke had been in the mall, speaking about Madeline and choosing new shirts and nearly being whisked away in her mother’s car. She smelled like flowers and sunshine and Jeremy remembered that the Squip had implied he’d intended for her to originally be Jeremy’s target to popularity instead.

She was pretty, it was undeniable. 

And she was also one of Rich’s best friends.

“Do you know where Rich is?” She twisted a finger around her hair, though it seemed more absentminded than flirtatious.

“P-principal’s. He cussed, um, cussed out a teacher.”

“That’s the third time this month.” She huffed a little. Then nodded towards the cluster of Jake, Chloe, and Jenna. “You want to come sit with us?”

“Um. What?”

“It’s just, you always sit in the back of the auditorium. I thought you might want to sit with us?”

What would the Squip advise?

“Y-yeah, okay.” He fumbled to his feet. “I...yes.”

“Cool. We’ve been wanting to pick your brain for awhile.” She paused, giggling. “Get it? Because we’re in a play about zombies? Brains?”

Jeremy smiled. “That, uh, that’s pretty good.”

“Thanks.” She grasped his forearm, pulling him along. He watched as the eyes of the popular kids devoured him. His legs trembled the closer they got. “Jerry’s going to sit with us, okay?”

“It’s, uh-”

“Jeremy, right?” Jake said with a smile. He reached out, clasping his hand. It was a firm handshake. Jake’s other hand was draped around-

“Chr-Christine,” Jeremy stammered.

“Hi, Jeremy.” She seemed just as uncertain about being with this crowd as he did, but she smiled goodnaturedly. “I’m glad you decided to come up closer. Theatre’s supposed to be communal.”

“You’re so nice, babe,” Jake chirped. They kissed, a small smack of lips that Jeremy looked away from.

This was hell.

Brooke’s hand squeezed his forearm. “I’m glad you came too.”

“F-for the brain picking?”

“Yes. Although we already feel like we know you.”

“Totally,” Jenna agreed.

“Wha...what do you mean?”

Brooke laughed a little. “You know. Because you’re basically aaaall Rich talks about lately.”

Jeremy stared at them in shock. Rich talked about him. Why would he talk about him?

“Because he likes you.” The Squip’s sudden voice should have been startling, but it was a welcome presence. “It’s good, Jeremy. He’s not sharing your secrets. He’s sharing his interest. His friends have taken notice.”

_It’s about time you showed up. _

“Rich’s squip had some interesting viewpoints. I didn’t want to cut the conversation short. That would have been rude.” The Squip’s eyes moved between every teen, before landing on Jeremy. “After this, you’re asking Rich on a date.”

_I...w-wait, I’m not ready for-_

“Focus on maintaining good eye contact with these kids, Jeremy. They’re friends of Rich’s. You need to impress them.”

The Squip guided him through casual conversation, feeding him jokes that drew pleased laughter, commentary that drew rapid nodding agreement.

And though Christine was part of the crowd, Jeremy’s mind kept straying to the fact he was expected to ask Rich out once all of this was done.


	8. Chapter 8

"Why is it taking him so long to reply?"

It had been two hours since rehearsal. He'd sent the text directly afterwards. So why was Rich stalling so much?

"It hasn't been that long," The Squip sat at the computer. On the screen, data streamed without the Squip's hands touching the keyboard. He'd explained something about tapping into the mainframe, though in all honesty Jeremy wasn't sure how much of the Squip's technobabble was genuine and how much was just an act based on Jeremy's preconceptions.

"It's been two hours."

"That's only 120 minutes. I'm certain his squip is telling him not to be too eager."

"Too eager? H-he told me my cardigan was hot." Jeremy frowned, looking down at his hands. "I thought..."

"What?"

"I th-thought he really liked me."

"Oh please." The Squip turned around, the images on the monitor stilling so that Jeremy could see the chat window. He couldn't make out the text on it, but who on earth was his squip chatting with? And who still used AIM? "Obviously he likes you."

"But what if he doesn't anymore."

"Why should you care? If he's bored with you, we'll simply move onto plan B."

Jeremy grabbed a blanket from his bed, wrapping it around himself. "Wh-what's plan b?"

"Talking to Christine directly." The Squip swiveled back around in his chair, staring intently at the computer. Text began to tick away on the chat window. "I was hoping it wouldn't come to that. It's a bit premature. But-"

"W-why isn't he texting back?" Jeremy picked up his phone, staring at the screen and giving the entire phone a little shake. As though he could will a text into existence, as though he could simply force words to show up that hadn't been there before. "And w-who are you talking to?"

"What does it matter?"

"Are you...a-are you catfishing someone?"

"Of course not." The Squip rested his chin against his palm, his elbow against the computer desk, as his words continued to pour into the computer. "Catfishing is for ugly, unappealing programs. I'm state of the art."

"Uh huh."

"You do think I'm state of the art, don't you?" He lifted his head. "If you were another AI, for instance. You'd find me appealing, wouldn't you?"

"Uh." Jeremy blinked. "I mean, I guess you're cute."

"Cute," The Squip sneered. "What use do I have for cute?" He paused, toying with his cuff links. "But elaborate. What do you find cute?"

"I d-dunno. You're, uh, you're well dressed."

"Yes."

"And you have pretty, um, eyes?"

"That's a cliche." His nose creased in annoyance, before he added, "But they are rather appealing, aren't they? Yes, I'm definitely a physically fit specimen."

"Sure."

"But I'm talking about my special features. I'm very equipped at helping you, aren't I?"

"Um." Jeremy tried to figure out what the Squip's game was here. Why was he questioning him so much about- "Are you talking to R-Rich's squip again?"

Color touched faintly on the Squip's face. His fingers tapped anxiously at his cheek, chin cradled in his palm, and the corners of his lips twitched into a deeper frown. "Why would you say that?"

"I-I mean, who else do you know that...that you'd want to impress?"

"Who says I want to impress anybody? As a matter of fact-"

His phone vibrated.

Jeremy flopped belly down onto the bed, cradling his phone in both hands as he unlocked it. He shivered, pulling open his texts.

** _like a date-date?_ **

Jeremy felt a smile work onto his face. Had Rich spent a long time deciding what to text? Had he wasted his two hours deliberating over the meaning of Jeremy's words?

The idea of him being nervous was...it was...

"Cute," He whispered.

_as opposed to the fruit?_

It was a moment before he got a response back.

** _the fuck is a fruit date? oh like gay dudes dating? lmaoo_ **

_no, it's like a-_

"Squip, what's a date?"

"A social interaction between romantic prospects."

"No, the...the food."

"Oh. It's a fruit in the palm family. Highly irrelevant to anything you're discussing now."

"S-says you."

_it's like a palm tree fruit or something_

"It's not like a palm tree!"

"W-whatever."

** _cool beans bro. but you didn't answer me_ **

_about the date?_

** _the date-date yeah_ **

_yeah like a date-date. like i wine and dine you_

** _wine dine and 69 lmaoo_ **

Jeremy's face colored as he bit the inside of his cheek, to try (and fail) to keep his smile contained.

** _you really want to date me?_ **

There was a moment of doubt. Michael's words about how scummy this was played over and over in Jeremy's head. Rich was clearly shyly excited at the prospect. And for Jeremy to exploit that, just for his own interests, that was bad, right? That was inarguably bad. 

He looked at his squip, who was focused intently on the computer. And then he looked at his phone.

Wouldn't it be crueler, though, to leave him expecting a date, only to pull the rug out from under his feet?

_yes_

** _even though i'm an asshole?_ **

_well too bad for you, i eat assholes for breakfast_

"W-why...why did I say that?"

He could practically hear the Squip roll his eyes.

** _lmaooooo nice. wanna make it a breakfast date then? ;)_ **

"D-do I want to make it a breakfast date?"

"Keep it at night. There's more chemistry in dates at night."

_just keep your saturday night open okay?_

"Oh, that was good. It makes you seem more like an alpha male than you actually are."

** _saturday. got it. can i call you? i gotta tell you the crazy shit that happened in detention_ **

"W-wait. He doesn't even seem excited."

"According to his squip, he's currently jumping up and down on the bed."

"So you ARE talking to his squip!" Jeremy said triumphantly. "Wait. W-wait. Jumping? He's excited?"

"Extremely."

"For me?"

"Who else?"

Jeremy hugged his phone to his chest. He pulled himself onto his knees on the bed, giving an enthusiastic bounce of his own.

He paused though. "Wait. I...h-how am I going to impress Rich fucking Goranski?"

"Good job not saying "freaking". As for impression, you already have the roadmap."

"I do?"

"Yes."

"W-what?"

The Squip sighed tiredly. "Breakfast."

"Oh." Jeremy was quiet a moment, before his face exploded in red. "I'm g-going to eat his ass??"

***

Jeremy wasn't sure how it was possible for a week to both drag and speed by, but the wait time until Saturday was an unreasonable block of hours and days.

Still, when Saturday came, and the Squip had instructed him on how to iron his best shirt, and then piloted him into the kitchen to pull out pancake batter, Jeremy would have given anything to go back to those uncomfortable days of waiting.

"I c-can't do this."

"Yes you can. It's all in your wrist."

"No, not that." Jeremy flipped another pancake. "This I can do. But...but R-Rich is going to be here-"

"Any minute. He's already on his way."

"O-Oh god."

"You've already spent ample time around him one on one. This isn't any different."

"E-except it's a romantic rooftop pancake date." Jeremy stopped, to analyze the words which had just left his mouth. "...w-wait, is this romantic? It sounds kind of...k-kind of stupid."

"Rich likes food. You both alluded to breakfast, as well as analingus but that isn't particularly important tonight. And the roof gives a good view of the stars. It's the perfect plan."

"Is this the kind of date you'd p-plan for yourself?"

The Squip looked at him oddly. "Of course not. But I'm not interested in anyone like Rich."

"Wh-who are--"

"I'm a computer living in your head. I don't know anyone to court. Please stop bothering me about this."

"Okay, okay." Jeremy flipped the last pancake, before going to the sink to wash his hands, and clear a stripe of batter from his chin. "I g-guess I should take this upstairs."

He stepped out of the kitchen, balancing the pancakes (the last detail that he hadn't taken up), and going to his room. He pried open the window, eyeing the fire escape uncertainly. He clutched the porcelain of the plate between his teeth, shimmying his way out and grasping the ladder.

He pulled himself up rung by rung, until he was on the roof of the apartment building. He'd set up blankets and pillows on the ground, arranged into a makeshift bed. The rusty old telescope that belonged to his downstairs neighbor balanced on the edge of the roof. It might prove handy. He walked to the blankets, setting the pancakes next to the syrup and butter, the utensils and plates, and smoothed a wrinkle out of the blanket.

"Is this stupid?"

"You already asked that. Would I guide you into this if it were stupid?"

"I-I mean, maybe. You might think it's funny or something."

"You already make a fool of yourself daily. I don't need to increase your mistakes."

"V-very funny."

"I am, aren't I? What other positive traits would you see in me, if you were an outside, impartial observer?"

"I-I don't--"

His phone buzzed, a text indicating that Rich had arrived. Jeremy shivered nervously, as he gave Rich the code to let himself in, instructions on how to find the fire escape.

He hoped his father didn't wake up and accost Rich on his way up.

"G-god, what if my...w-what if my dad wants to meet him?"

"Your father hasn't noticed anything you've gotten into since I've powered up. His casual neglect is serving us well."

Jeremy's chest ached in a familiarly lonely way. He tried not to think too much about it.

He didn't have long before he heard a rustling below, from his window. The ladder creaked as weight pulled itself up. Rich's head popped up past the ledge of the roof, a bright smile on his face.

"Hey, Queere!"

Jeremy didn't have to tell himself to smile. It came unbidden. "Hi."

"You look fuckin' tasty." Rich pulled himself onto the roof, then looked at him uncertainly. "I don't know why I said that. I've never called anyone tasty in my life."

Jeremy giggled. "Well, I, uh, I am covered in batter."

"Nice. I'll lick you up."

They both locked eyes, and started laughing again. The mood was awkward, but a comfortable sort of awkward. The sort of awkward of firsts. Something felt tangibly real about this, and Jeremy was happy to wrap himself up in the atmosphere of it.

"You made pancakes though?"

"Y-you wanted breakfast."

"Shit, I didn't think you'd take me seriously. But I fucking love pancakes. Haven't had them in forever."

They both sat on the blankets, Rich's knee touching Jeremy's, as they began to fill their plates with pancakes. Jeremy waited to see if Rich liked them, watching him stuff one into his mouth with a groan of satisfaction.

"'s so good," He practically moaned.

Moaned!

Jeremy's body ached in a strangely familiar way. He thought about how long it had been since he'd touched himself. And then he thought about how disarming it was to realize he wanted Rich to touch him instead. He stared at his hands, how they gripped his fork, and wondered how they'd feel against his thighs.

"You okay?"

"I...y-yeah! Just thinking."

"Yeah, me too." Rich took another bite, bouncing his knee against Jeremy's. "Nervous still?"

"I-I mean, when am I not?"

"Bad nervous or good nervous?"

"Good," Jeremy blushed.

"Yeah, me too."

Jeremy peeked up at him, scooting closer and reaching his fork over to steal a bit of Rich's food. He smiled triumphantly as he placed it in his mouth, the look of confused fascination on Rich's face drawing another laugh from him.

"Damn dude, and I thought I was a food scavenger."

"I s-saw my opening. I took it."

"Nice. Looking at my openings."

"Y-you're gross!" Jeremy squealed, his head falling back with a sharp laugh. It was loud, and embarrassing, and he wanted to stifle it immediately. He placed his hands over his mouth, only for Rich to grasp his wrist, pulling it away.

"I like your laugh."

His touch lingered, his thumb stroking the back of his hand. Jeremy stared at him, the freckles on his face, the cupids bow of his lips, the way the stars cast over his eyes.

"Y-you want to look at constellations?" Jeremy blurted.

Rich smiled. "You want to make our own?"

"I..."

"C'mon, it'll be fun." He set his plate aside, taking Jeremy's hand in his own. He pulled him upright, as the two walked hand in hand towards the old telescope. Rich gestured. "Go ahead. Look."

"H-how do I...I mean-"

"You put your eye on the thingy."

Jeremy smirked, crossing his arms. "I know that."

"Just look. Tell me what you see."

Jeremy grasped the telescope, closing one eye, as he placed the other over the viewer. And he gazed up at the sky. The stars weren't so different from Rich's freckles. "U-um. That kind of...that looks like a cat."

"Where?"

Jeremy moved aside, letting Rich look, and gesturing. "See, those are the ears, a-and the tail."

"What do we name her?"

Jeremy stared at the slope of Rich's speckled neck. "Freckle."

Rich pulled back. "Freckle?" He giggled. "That's cute. That's really-"

Jeremy should have waited for his squip. He should have followed the rules of rom-coms. He should have remembered his technique on his hand.

But he thought of none of that.

Their lips crashed together, Rich's hands closing down over Jeremy's lower back. He tasted like maple syrup and bonfires.

Jeremy tilted his head, parting his lips. Because he was in this. He was here. They were alive.

And he was open to anything Rich had to give.


End file.
